A Daily Emotional Duel Contributing to my Dual Personality

This post is finally being published. I started it last Thursday but have not had the gumption or the time to complete it.  Thank you to those of you who take the time to read and to pray.

The dichotomy of emotions we have felt over the last number of weeks (never mind the last ten minutes) is uncanny.  I feel like eight and a half weeks ago- after we received Samuel’s prognosis- I began to grieve his loss.  Now- here we are- less than twelve weeks away from our due date – and Samuel is still very much alive.

The prognosis has not changed- but I find myself hoping and dreaming for some precious snuggle time with my beautiful baby.  I wish and long for a little brother for Moriah to play with and push on the swing. I find myself picturing him snuggled on my husband’s chest for a nap, and waking me up numerous times in the night for feeds.  I wonder what his little nose will look like.  Will he look like Mo did as a baby or not? I long to experience his scent and to hold him close; I long to bring him home; I long for him to not be sick and I long to see him grow up. 

Sometimes- my longing turns to believing and then ----Wham! I am contacted by the nurse from Canuck place (who is wonderful by the way) who wants to know, if  Sam is alive when I go into labour, whether or not we want his heart monitored during the process as the stress of his sudden passing can make labour more emotionally difficult. Or, in the event that he does better than expected, we are asked whether or not we think we will be comfortable to bring him home and administer comfort meds when he appears to be in distress. Or, we are faced with the discussion regarding where we will choose to bury him—and whether or not we want to make the decision now or in the time immediately following his passing.  These moments hurt. 

Sometimes I feel like I am going to run out of breath and not make it through and then I resurface. The other day I found myself sharing my excitement for our pregnancy with a woman in a maternity store – only to get into my car and realize that though the dress I just purchased is for Christmas – I had subconsciously chosen it as something I could also wear to Samuel’s memorial.

Often, I feel warmed by Moriah’s excitement for her brother. Just the other day, she shared her desire to make a bed for Samuel in her room- rather than in the ‘would be’ nursery.  And, often my heart breaks when she tells me that- if Samuel does not get to play with us at all- or very long—and goes to be with Jesus- that God will give her another brother or sister. 

I love the memories of our gender reveal party (a party solely for Moriah)—I love the genuine joy on our faces in the pictures – as if this pregnancy comes with no worries or troubles but then I feel broken hearted at the thought that the only reason we know who we are having is because we needed something to hang on to – some excitement – in light of the news that we received at that second ultrasound. 

This dual of emotions spills over into my prayer life.  One minute I find myself trusting and praying for Samuel’s complete physical and mental healing and the next moment- I chastise myself for not being in a total place of surrender that is okay with whatever outcome the Lord chooses—and then the next minute I am back to doubting myself for not praying with enough faith. 

BE STILL.

TAKE YOUR STANCE—YOU WILL NOT HAVE TO FIGHT. I WILL FIGHT THIS BATTLE FOR YOU.

As I write this- this is what I hear. Be still. Take your stance. You will not have to fight.

As I write this- I am reminded that – when we feel too weak to keep our hands lifted in surrender—we are surrounded by others who hold them up for us. This always makes me think of Moses- when Aaron and Hur- provided Moses with a rock to sit on and held up his hands when he was too tired to keep his staff lifted high on his own.  Any time his staff was raised – the Israelites were successful in battle but any time he let them drop- they were defeated- Exodus 17.

I want to keep my hands lifted high. I believe that – arms stretched to him in trust and surrender (our stance) will mean that we do not have to fight- He will fight for us. 

This week there were many times our arms weakened – but you (our friends and family and even some strangers)- held them high.  You held them high by sending emails and fb messages and cards of encouragement. You held them high through your prayers for us. My parents held them high by taking Moriah last minute so that we could have some much needed process time. A friend from church held them high by dropping off another freezer meal; while an AIA colleague and friend brought us a zucchini loaf.  Our life group lifted us up through prayer and offered words of encouragement and release from group when we just needed a minute. My girl’s Bible study group- did not tire of hearing me process what I really needed prayer for this week. A past colleague sent a text full of encouragement, scripture and an offer to connect anytime. One of my best friends reminded me of Ephesians 6 and she prayed His armor over me. My mom took time to have an old school shopping date with me. One of the mom’s from preschool sent me an encouraging article from a Christian living magazine.  Our sweet Hannah (who lives with us) loved on Mo and helped keep our kitchen tidy.  Our friend Becki stayed with us this weekend and brought us laughter and has loved on Moriah in unbelievable ways.  My sister-in-law—sent an email this morning sharing what God was saying to her (BE STILL) and as a result she blessed me (especially cool since- I started writing this blog last week and I had not yet shared with her that God had been saying the same to me).  My brother called- just because. My mother-in-law faithfully checked in on us and continues to love us well in this.  I could go on and on and on. 

Our weeks have been filled with support and love and prayers for peace that passes all understanding.  Thank you for holding our hands high.